V8 Announcements

Credit to staff for writing the announcements.

The First Announcement
 Monday, September 22, 2021: INTERPOL Liaison Office, Bangkok, Thailand, 1PM 

Rhea looked at her noticeboard, flicking the corner of the picture she had in hand. It was linked to a Facebook account that had been abandoned over six months prior to the sixth iteration of Survival of the Fittest. That itself wasn't unusual. Facebook accounts were created and abandoned all the time. Plus, the timing didn't raise any alarm bells. But with all that taken into consideration, the details of the account matched some details of one of the records the leaker had provided them with. It was something, another lead, another branching path in the hedge maze that was trying to track down the AT. Sadly, most pathways led to a dead end. But some leads were more promising than others, like the information of the ex-marine her CIA partner had managed to dig up.

The United States military had of course been no help unless they actually benefitted from any information being passed around. Any requests for information were met with bureaucracy and paperwork, deflections of being unaware of any files on any potential suspects. "Have you tried X department?" was a popular saying amongst their teams it seemed. Then when Rhea had managed to dig up any information she could use all of a sudden their men in black appeared in her inbox and on her call log. “Mutually beneficial if we're linked in with any information you have?" their question of choice. Once Rhea had responded to one of them over the phone that they'd had their chance to share information and they buried it. As far as she was concerned if the American military wanted to help clean up the mess they'd made they could crawl into her office and beg to be included.

 Thursday, February 13, 2020: King Salmon Airport, Alaska, 3PM 

Josie stepped off the plane rubbing her eyes with her hand. She was so tired, all because fucking Wilson had decided to go the most long-winded way around to get to King Salmon, involving flights to Japan and Seoul with different aliases along the way. Their travel time sat somewhere in the region of forty hours and Josie had wanted to murder him for every single one. She hadn't been allowed to drink, lest she "say the wrong thing" but little had Wilson known that denying her alcohol was putting her at risk of "doing the wrong thing" where the thing in question was driving a shitty airport cafe knife through his stupid fucking face.

She had argued against going, she'd practically begged Sonia and even tried to subtly suggest the idea to Tracen, but they'd both told her to take it up with Greynolds. Josie had grouched and slunk away. She didn't like talking to Greynolds, he was offputting. So instead she had gone back to bullying Lourvey because frankly, he deserved it. She had seen his phone.

Meanwhile, as the cold air whipped at her face as she disembarked she couldn't help feeling somewhat happy. For the first time since she had first been approached by Wilson, she was on home soil. They'd been dispatched with a simple but important task. Tracen wanted a winter game and so it was up to them to find an adequate location in the Bering Sea. Josie had been dispatched along with Wilson because she had first-hand experience out in Alaska, although she had read the room and realized that it meant she was going to be doing a lot of hiking and carrying bags.

As Wilson waited for his hold luggage to come through the conveyor Josie turned to him.

"Am I allowed a drink now?" She asked, realizing she sounded petulant but not caring in the slightest.

"Once we leave the airport sure," Replied Wilson, keeping his vision focused forward and not registering her attitude, which only served to annoy her more. "Then we can go get some supplies."

She cocked an eyebrow.

"What kind of supplies?"

Wilson chuckled at her curiosity, which infuriated her.

"Need to know basis Knight." Was his reply.

"I hope it's a gun so I can shoot you." She grumbled in response, causing another chuckle. Which also angered Josie, as she wasn't joking.

 Wednesday, December 8, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM 

Tracen strolled into the announcement booth with barely a care in the world, a cup of steaming coffee in one hand, and sheets of paper in the other. It felt good to be back to work. The idea of striking slightly earlier seemed to have paid dividends. He remembered back when he had pitched it to Jim back in 2018 at the conclusion of their last game. One way to jump out ahead of the authorities who may have been alerted to them through the late Trent's actions. Scuttle any existing plans and reconstruct and refocus efforts onto an idea designed to keep their opponents off-guard, after all, they had never struck in the winter before. Greynolds for the first time being a seeming stickler for tradition argued against it, saying the prep work was already underway and they had no evidence that it had been compromised. Tracen had countered that while they had no proof they knew that their information was out into the wilds of the world, as such any existing plans had to be assumed to be compromised. A rare disagreement between them on how to proceed. Nonetheless, they had come to a decision and put it in action. So he sat, took a swig of his coffee and pressed the button for the speakers for the first time.

With an obnoxious squeal and the sound of some feedback, the speakers that were hidden in strategic places around the island came to life for the very first time. Once the noise quietened down to a low-level white noise a familiar voice came over the airwaves.

"Good morning students of John Endecott Memorial Academy! I hope you're enjoying your time here at our resort and you're finding it a suitable replacement for the skiing you were supposed to be doing. We did try our best to give your a comparable experience, there's snow and a mountain. But anyway, as I told you all back when we first met, my name is Tracen and I'm here to give you the daily update on who in your class is a murderer and who their victims were. So without further ado, let's get to it.

"Kicking off our brand new winter edition we have Katelyn Graves taking her claws to Robin Valenti's throat, I say claws, I mean knife. It's a cat joke."

Tracen's grin got slightly wider, it was an incredibly stupid joke but one he personally enjoyed.

"Not wasting any time and not wanting to feel left out Janice Cresner also slit Tristana Blanco Osuna's throat, things were more rojo after that.

"Przemyslaw Ziemiak really kept his eyes on the prize as he pushed Ethan Kemp over a mountain ledge and to his death.

"Our next kill was much more simple brutality as Betty Quinn crunched the skull of Oakley York. Alas, poor Yorkrick."

A sip of coffee to keep his throat soothed and then Tracen continued.

"I'm impressed and somewhat proud to say that we also already have our first double killer as Katelyn Graves struck again and this time Iliya Polaris was her victim.

"And who's that not far behind her? Well, it's Janice Cresner of course, her knife claiming another victim as this time Piper Puncheon fell to the blade. I'd watch out for those two if I were you, they seem keen."

A smile from Tracen, there was always a place for pot stirring in the announcements, keep the kids on their toes and their paranoia ticking over. He flipped to his second sheet of paper and quickly scanned the names before proceeding.

"Next up, we have our first medical tip for all of you, if you happen to get stuck with a knife like say Spike Havighurst was by Jacob Lang the smart thing to do is to leave the blade in your body, Spike didn't do this and well he's on this list so you know how that ended.

"Another tip, although not medical, is to make sure you have actually beaten your opponent, something Mallory Valdez learned the hard way when Jessica Romero shot her. I'm sure you'll all get the hang of it with time.

"Aracelis Fuentes is next to grace our list of killers as she compacted Constance Blanchet's head. It appears this cheerleader can also hit homers so I'd watch out.

"Next we have the saddening news of the death of local YouTube star Steven Dodds after he was stabbed an extreme forty times by Jezzie Stark.

"Finally, we end today's update when after exchanging some thorny words Shu Hawthorne garrotted Kiera Hayes with barbed wire, a simple yet effective use of the tool he's been given."

Tracen slid the papers away from him and downed the rest of his coffee, then turned his attention to the note he was handed as he had entered the room.

"Now onto the second part of this whole process, and I'll go over this again just in case you weren't listening to me originally. We make areas of the island off-limits each day, these are Danger Zones, please remember that if you stay in these locations your collar will go boom taking your neck with it. So maybe don't wait around. All that said your first danger zone to be aware of is The Cave so don't go spelunking if you want to keep your head.

"Apart from one of you of course who has won our Best Kill Award! The winner of this prize gets a shiny brand new weapon and also a lovely hot cooked meal. The winner for today is Betty Quinn! Congratulations! Your prize, along with a hearty bowl of clam chowder paired with sourdough bread with butter and a piping thermos of hot cocoa, can be found in the cave, bring a flashlight, but don't worry. It isn't that deep inside.

"And that's it from me today kids, I'll see you tomorrow when we'll find out how you all spent the second day of the rest of your life. Until then, I hope you have fun."

And with that, the speakers went silent.

The Second Announcement
 Thursday, December 9, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 6:30 AM 

Routine had a strange way of turning even the most unnatural and otherworldly things into normal.

For the past few years things had gone roughly the same for Donald. He’d wake up early every morning and make his own coffee, with extra sugar. Then he’d begin the real task. He would freshly squeeze a few oranges for the purpose of making juice and then he’d lightly toast two frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts. It was very a specific and deliberate ritual, and it was required to be precise and timely. The juice couldn’t have too much pulp, the Pop-Tart had to be toasted to a specific light brown. Any lighter or darker would cause it to be sent back, too much or too little pulp would end up with the juice being poured on the floor. And don’t even try to come through with raspberry filling! There was no room for errors, there was no room for mistakes…

Not when you were working for the Arthro Taskforce. Not when you were working directly under Jim Greynolds.

Don’s hand shook as he held the paper plate in one hand and the tall glass in the other. Every step was quick and panicked. Donny felt destined to spill the beverage all over his pale hands. He approached Greynolds’ room and lightly knocked on the door before twisting the knob open in a clumsy and uncoordinated motion. It was more important to be quick than to be polite. There was no reason to ask permission, his presence was expected.

Ahead was the pony-tailed silhouette of his boss, engaged in conversation of the highest scale and danger…

“I just don’t appreciate the attitude, Jimmy! I’m your mother!”

“Well, then you should know, Mommy,” Greynolds said with a bouncy playfulness, “my name is Jimmy Greynolds not Jimmy Roku. Ask the neighbor boy how to set up your smart-tv, don’t ask me.”

A hand waved and motioned Donald forward. The intern quickly scurried towards Jimmy G and placed both the glass of juice and mass-produced processed pastry at his desk. Greynolds took a bite and then a sip. His mother groaned and gesticulated on a bright laptop screen. She looked just like Greynolds, disarmingly and distractingly ordinary. An elderly woman with pink rollers in her hair, a pink floral robe, and a sour expression.

“Then why’d you call me in the first place? It’s not so easy getting ahold of you and you’re very particular on the how and the where and the what! Can’t use Zoom, can’t do FaceTime! Gotta do it Jim’s way on Jim’s special computer with his special VPwhatever!”

“Yeah, yeah,” Greynolds dismissed his mother and nodded at Donald as he smirked that permanent Greynolds smirk, “you’re a real pioneer woman. I’m actually calling you with good news.”

Donald walked to the exit slower than he walked to drop off the breakfast. There was a small skip in his step as the first task of the day was completed with success and little stress. There was no mistakes, there was no error. Everything was going smoothly…

“And what good news could you possibly bring?”

“Things are going good at work. Free time that wasn’t previously there has opened up. Put up the stocking and decorate the tree, alert all the Whos in Whoville,” Greynolds said taking a large bite of the Pop-Tart, speaking through large theatrical chomps, “I’ll be home for Christmas.”

Donald shuddered and shut the door.

 Thursday, December 9, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM 

Tracen entered the room with his notes and cup of coffee. He somewhat resented the fact he needed to wake up early. He understood the idea, they wanted to reduce the amount of sleep the students got or wake them up had managed to get a brief bit of shut-eye but still, it was cold in the morning before the heating turned on. Regardless, he took his position behind the microphone and took a sip of his coffee. It was another productive day for the students, even if some of them had decided to eliminate themselves. Greynolds had always compared the bloodshed to a boulder rolling downhill, once it started to gather momentum it was almost impossible to stop. The students had started killing, so escalating violence was now inevitable, no matter how many of them tried to resist.

Tracen took another sip of coffee and made an edit to one of his notes. Then he pressed the button to send the speakers buzzing to life.

"Good morning kids! I hope you're not too chilly out there and all managed to find a warm place to spend the night. If you're hoping things are about to warm up then I have bad news about the weather forecast, but we'll get to that. First we need to go through the murderers and their murderees.

"We open today with a brief dance in the dark leading to Bill Taylor getting stabbed by Jezzie Stark who is back once again.

"After that, Mitch McDuffy had an encounter with a wild Kitty Graves and like every else, he came off on the worse end of it.

"Roberta Chen met her end next when she had a tense encounter with Daenerys Todd. Sadly no dragons were involved."

Tracen chuckled at his own stupid joke before continuing.

"Shout-out to Joshua James who made sure Zora Morrison wouldn't forget who he was when he strangled her to death.

"Zhijuan Lung-Romney died next following an adverse reaction to our brand of sleeping gas. We are sincerely sorry this occurred and want to assure you that in ninety-nine percent of cases, the gas is perfectly harmless. If you're hearing this I guess you didn't have an adverse reaction so congratulations I suppose.

"Marian Dick went for a walk in the snow forgetting that you do actually need warmth to continue living and ended up as an icicle. A lesson for you all, I guess.

"Tull Talbott thought he was a wolf but all that howling just left him open for Russell Fitzroy to put a bullet in his back. Let out your most mournful awoo's for our boy...beautiful.

"Anyway! Ingrid Wilde tried to — and I swear I'm reading this right — she tried to swim away from the island, which we can safely say did not work out. I wouldn't recommend you try if you like being alive.

"Next Alex Avanesian buried his spear deep into Cedar Dalisay's guts, just like he was tapping her for syrup really because she's, ah never mind."

"And finally, we ended the day with Jess Kawazoe who decided it would be a smart idea to collapse and freeze to death. Chilling."

"So now that's out the way we need to sort out the danger zone for today, The Cave is back open. The second thing is that The Graveyard is now off-limits. If you go in there without permission then at least your body will be in the right place.

"It also brings us on to our winner of the Best Kill Award who for today is Joshua James! Congratulations on your achievement, your prize of a shiny new weapon and a lobster roll with slaw and a pitcher of Samuel Adams can be found in The Graveyard. I'm reliably informed that the locals are keeping it safe for you.

"And that's it from me today, I'll be speaking to you all again in twenty-four hours time, so remember if you need to keep warm, killing a classmate is bound to keep your heat up."

The Third Announcement
 Friday, February 14, 2020: Somewhere in the Bering Sea, 8:42 PM 

“This place is a dump,” Josie stated plainly.

It wasn’t the ideal Valentine’s Day evening. Not like it could be with her current company.

Their guide, an affable if dubious young man seemed to find this amusing. Neither he nor Wilson hid their chuckles. The cabin that they were in was deep within the wilderness they were currently scouting and mapping out. Josie didn’t expect to find a structure like it out here, but it was familiar in its purpose—a trapping camp, buck hunting most likely. The memory was strong enough to provoke resentment which in turn soured her more than (completely the same as) usual.

“It’s actually maintained itself pretty well considering,” the guide said with an easy smile. "The elements are very unforgiving out here and this island is very dangerous. All structures have been threatened by the might of the mountain at various points. This camp is a blessing, trust me. Though I guess in comparison the Station might be the Ritz.”

“We know this place is dangerous,” Wilson interrupted with equal parts ominousness and authority, “that’s why we’ve chosen it.”

“And this sure as shit ain’t the Ritz.”

The guide paused and looked down at his shoes. It was Josie’s turn to chuckle. She took a large swig of the beer she fished out of her backpack. She found a wall in the cabin to lean up against and did so. Josie alternated between sipping her beer and polishing her rifle. The snow, the scope, and even the booze felt very much like home.

A chorus of howling wolves interrupted their banter. The guide looked uneasy but wisely looked to Wilson and based his reaction on the older man’s. A wry smile was on his square jaw and even in the night his insistence on wearing sunglasses did little to hide the twinkle in his eye.

“You’ll need to handle that Knight.”

“Don’t like wolves?” The guide asked with a curious and doubtful expression.

“Love them,” Wilson replied. “We’re just planning to provide our own.”

 Friday, December 10, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM 

Tracen strolled into the announcement booth with a cup of coffee in one hand and an easy smile on his face. The third time was the charm, wasn’t it? This had gotten so easy it was hard to imagine it was ever hard. As the game continued, he felt himself engaged in the familiar routine so much so that it became a ritual. And rituals held power. Especially over the students, the powerless. The announcement was an important ritual. It established routine, and it articulated the order of the island. It was a metronome for murder. It kept the students in line, and it served as a reminder and a constant. The announcements, the death, the sooner they accepted it and expected it…the sooner they’d have no choice but to partake in it. Routine was ritual. And rituals held power. It was worth repeating. Once these things gained momentum, they were near impossible to stop.

Tracen took a sip of his coffee and then pressed the button to send the speakers to life.

“Good morning, kids. I hope you’ve managed to stay warm and toasty throughout another night on our lovely island, but if not, you’ll have another chance to try and get warm today. The cold isn't going anywhere. But as always, I'll give you what you came for. The murdered and the murderers.

“We begin with Eve Zima who disappointingly drowned to death. Keep in mind to practice safe swimming.

“Our next death was Hector Quayle who was headbutted off a cliff by one of our local fauna. Don’t forget to respect wildlife out there as well.

“The next up was Tenshi Fukushima-Yves who was done in by Dawn Montogomery chopping her arm off. Turns out you need to go to college to be a surgeon—at least a successful one.

“Eden Zima joined his sister in the afterlife by getting stabbed in the neck after a long conversation with Katelyn Graves. Remember what I said earlier about respecting wild animals.

“Joan Leaven died sometime after being shot by Letitia May. When someone tells you to leave, don’t be Leaven.”

“Displaying bold strategy Taylor Thorne demanded to be stabbed by Katelyn Graves and then, shockingly, was stabbed. Less bold was the bleeding out.

“Next up is Dominiqua Ashmore who was shot by DeMarcus Miller. He definitely knows how to take care of things out here.

“Juanita Reid gutted Eden Glass like a fish and left them shattered. A clean and simple kill that was as clear as glass.”

“Calvin Rawls was obliterated by a wave and lost to the tides. Once more—never forget swim safety. Always bring a buddy and don’t swim at beaches without life guards present.

“Russell Fitzroy dreadfully shot and killed Mildred Platt, probably more merciful than being named Mildred in the first place.

“Finally we had Micah Flanagan who was put to pasture when he was shot in the neck by Jessica Romero.

“So now that we’re done with the business of yesterday, let us get to the business of today. The Graveyard is back open and our danger zone for today is The Hunting Lodge Bar. If you enter it without permission, your collar will be blown with precision. Please be wary.

It also brings us to our winner of the Best Kill Award for today Katelyn Graves. Congratulations! Your reward along with a meal of two all-beef ballpark hotdogs fully dressed in ketchup, mustard and relish along with a side of Boston style baked beans and a bottle of Cola await you at The Hunting Lodge Bar.

And that’s all from me for today! Do remember that a good way to beat the cold is cold blooded murder. Good luck and same time tomorrow!"

The Fourth Announcement
 Saturday, December 11, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM 

"Good morning kids and welcome to the weekend!"

Tracen gave a brief drumroll on the desk before continuing.

"If you've made it this far congratulations, but I must also inform you that there are no rest days in Survival of the Fittest, so get back out there and get some kills.

And on the subject of kills, we begin today with the tragic tale of Melanie Miles who was caught between a rock and a hard place and gunned down by Meena Lalita Kumar as a result.

Next up, Henry David Dearborn met the tip of the spear, Alex Avanesian, and also met the tip of his literal spear, which as you can imagine didn't end well for him.

After that, Mariya White encountered Joshua James and despite putting up a stiff defense, she was eventually shot to death.

For our next kill, it appears that some of you decided to look to Home Alone for inspiration as Colm Forsyth pushed a wardrobe down a set of stairs and onto Angelo Lee's head. Sadly this isn't a movie and that kills people, come on Colm."

Tracen paused briefly to take a sip of coffee and reread his notes to ensure he had everything down correctly for the coming deaths.

"After that brief detour into cartoon buffoonery, we get back to the regularly scheduled violence as Ashlee Donovan was shot by Karin Han.

Following that John Davis was stabbed in the gut by Juanita Reid in a classic case of romantic betrayal. It happens every time, and it's always a sad day for true love."

Tracen took a pause as he shook his head somberly, playing up the perceived sadness of the moment to a disingenuous degree.

"Anyway! Abhishek Panicker and Daenerys Todd exchanged blows, and he did manage to panic her, so poor Abhishek came out on the worse end of it. But I'm sure our comrade will appreciate that he died so that someone else will qualify to leave...wait...what's that? She already had a kill? Oh well.

Moving on, I'm sad to report to you all that one of our first killers Janice Cresner met her end as Lillian Larsen garotted her with a whip sword, which certainly sounds cool, so at least Janice has that.

Quentin Skinner and Jack Kilgore played a game of hide the gun not long after that and surprise! Jack had it and he kill...gored Quentin? Hmm. Okay look I'll level with you, we were really hoping Quentin got skinned somehow, we had loads of material for that.

But enough about us, another killer met their demise as Alex Avanesian tried to ambush Katelyn Graves but got ambushed himself."

Tracen let out a loud dramatic sigh.

"Real tactical blunder there, if I'm honest.

And finally, Meena Lalita Kumar slit their own wrists in front of some others, which seems inconsiderate to their feelings if you ask me."

Tracen tidied his papers and pushed them to one side.

"Now onto everyone's favorite part of the morning, finding out what places you're banned from going. Today if you go to The Foreman's Office your head will be off your shoulders.

"Unless of course you are our Best Kill Award winner Lillian Larsen! Congratulation! Your prize of a beautiful weapon and a traditional yankee pot roast with mint tea and 3 Dunkin' Donut donuts is waiting for you on the foreman's desk.

"And that's the end of today's update, try to remember that the whole world will be watching, so let's give them a good show. I'll speak with you again tomorrow."

The Fifth Announcement
 Wednesday, November 3, 2021: INTERPOL Liaison Office, Bangkok, Thailand, 10AM 

As it turned out, the American military had come begging to be let into the investigation, but they also made sure to bring gifts for her.

Rhea, her CIA contact Julio Santos, and two military intelligence suits were sat at a table looking at some surveillance photos. The subjects were an older man and younger woman. The man was the more immediately interesting of the pair, stern facial features were accompanied by brown-blond hair kept in a severe buzzcut. His dark brown eyes looked devoid of any emotion, his large, thick muscular frame appeared to be moving with purpose. His entire focus was on the task at hand.

Steven Wilson, a harbinger of death, finally appearing in the flesh.

“This came from security cameras at King Salmon airport in Alaska.” One of the military men was saying. “February thirteenth twenty-twenty.”

Rhea raised an eyebrow slightly. They’d spent two years in the dark following the conclusion of the seventh version. Then suddenly reappeared in Alaska of all places, a year before the abduction.

“What can you tell me about Wilson?” Rhea asked.

The two suits exchanged concerned glances.

“Well on this excursion he appeared-“

“I’m not talking about this excursion.” Rhea interrupted, cutting through whatever attempted diversion they had been trying to setup. “I want to know about his military background. Anything you have on that.”

“Well, uh, Steven Wilson isn’t his real name for one. But he served in the 7th Marines, then made his way into Force Recon. After a seemingly good career there, he got picked up by the Special Activities Center — although, it would have been known as the Special Activities Division at the time. He was in the SAC Special Operations Group. Although there appears to have been…issues with this posting.”

“Issues?” Santos said. “You mean besides the obvious ones of him being insane?”

There was a pregnant pause before one the suits cleared his throat and replied.

“It would appear his suitability — and well, uh yes, his potential volatility — was called into question across his deployments and he was quietly given retirement.”

“He was allowed to retire? After these issues?”

“Our understanding is that he was told to retire to reduce exposure.”

Another silence filled the room as the implication sunk in. It was a confirmation of what they already assumed, but having it spelt out in such stark terms was still shocking for Rhea. The American military and intelligence agencies knew they had potential problems, but they let him walk away and then buried all knowledge of him existing.

“We don’t know who this other woman is.” The other suit said, returning to business mode as he tapped the other face in the photo. “She isn’t one of ours.”

“Oh I know.” Rhea said, reaching down and removing a folder from her satchel. “I know exactly who she is.”

 Sunday, December 12, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM 

Tracen strolled into the room with a smile on his face. They were nearly a week into the latest version of Survival of the Fittest and everything was progressing smoothly. A few of the kids had been removed themselves from the proceedings rather than being killed, but aside from those few, the rest were happy to get on things. There were also a few that had to have additional eyes kept on them, but that wasn't a concern Tracen took very seriously. It was all talk and that was normally how it stayed. He placed his coffee and notes down on the desk and stretched his back out before taking his seat and pressing the button to turn the speakers on.

"Morning all! I'm pleased to announce that we have reached Sunday funday! The fun part comes from your continued survival and getting that much closer to being able to leave, as long as you have the required kill to your name of course.

But let's not get preachy — this isn't church after all. Instead, we'll get right to our first kill of the day! The first of your friends to bite it today was Shannon Choi, who played the hammer to Karin Han's nail.

Following that, our frequent killer Joshua James once again got his game on and shot Cassie Chao. Ciao and adiós Cassie, it was nice having you here."

Tracen chuckled at his pun and took a sip of coffee before continuing on.

"Our next kill featured a classic case of what goes around comes around, as yesterday's killer, Jack Kilgore, met today's killer, Matthew Bell, and was the one to find himself being kill...gored. Could have sworn we workshopped that one more."

There was a short, silent pause where only the sound of shuffling papers could be heard before Tracen spoke again.

"Eh, he's dead anyway, not a big deal.

"Moving on we have a classic mutual kill, as Rebekah Hayes and Bethany Lyon encountered each other. Bethany said hello with a stab so Rebekah replied with a gun smash to the temple. That was enough to take Bethany out and Rebekah bled out not too long after."

Tracen paused briefly to take another sip of coffee.

"The next kill is something we really shouldn't have to remind you of, but just in case you still don't get it, do not, I repeat, do not turn your back on anyone. Corbin Azinger did and Daenerys Todd embedded a blade in his skull. A lesson for the rest of you I guess.

"Perante Losoa then decided to take all the fun out of things and walked into a danger zone. So they still work I guess, in case you were wondering about that.

"The bell tolled for Ren Vu next, as busy boy Matthew Bell got his second kill of the day with another round of bullets.

"And for our final kill today we have the appearance of a new challenger, as Timothy Adams was shot by Salem Fox. You should probably watch out for him going forward, foxes aren't trustworthy.

"And with the deaths out of the way it is time for the daily bookkeeping. So, if you go up to The Cave and The Upper Mountain Pass today, you're in for a big surprise. In addition to those, yesterday's danger zone will remain in place. Can't wait for that to trip one of you up."

Tracen chuckled and slid the papers to the side, done with the main tasks of the morning.

"But congratulations to Salem Fox! You have won our latest best kill award. Your prize of a new destructive weapon and a meal of a roast beef sandwich, vinegar chips, a Boston cream pie, and ginger ale is waiting for you at the top of the mountain pass. It'll be worth the walk, trust me.

"And with that, we have once again reached the end of our daily bonding session. I hope you all have enjoyed yourselves as much as I have, and I'll see you again tomorrow for the exciting one-week anniversary of your time on the island! See you then."

The Sixth Announcement
 Monday, February 17, 2020: Somewhere in the Bering Sea, 10:38 AM 

The wind stung at her nose and cheeks but Josie continued pushing forward through the woods, bow and rifle slung over her back. The stones and dirt crunched under her footfalls as she trekked deeper, ducking under grasping branches and over gnarled, disfigured roots. She had been steadily building up a mental map of the island, and the woods were the final unfinished piece. But completing a map wasn't why she had been dropped off on the island with nothing but her supplies and a satellite phone. Wilson had given her the job of killing the island's wolf pack. She had yet to start on that particular objective.

In fact, she had questioned the entire enterprise. She couldn't have thought of a better way to attract the eyes of the countless fucked up people that lived in the world than to have some real-life wolf attack footage on the feeds. But Wilson had been firm with her.

"We're only interested in kids killing kids," he'd said. Josie disagreed as the danger zones, cliffs and other general stupidity managed to kill enough kids by themselves to render the whole gospel of it only being about kids killing kids moot in her eyes. Richards and Baines had even told her stories about how they'd been required to go onto the island in the fourth game to kill a student who had managed to remove her collar. So the task she had been given seemed both pointless and hypocritical in nature. But she was being paid well, so she supposed her complaints had been tempered somewhat by the promise of additional dollars in her bank account.

As she continued onward she saw the telltale indentation in the mud and dirt of a paw print and the worn-away grass layer that was a giveaway of frequent animal usage. Crouching down Josie inspected the paw prints for size, using her index finger and thumb to roughly gauge out the length and width. The estimate she came to indicated that it was likely an adult wolf and the number of tracks gave her a range for the pack size. Standing again Josie looked around then licked the tip of her finger and held it out into the wind.

Once she had figured out the direction of the wind, she looked around for a sturdy-looking tree and began to climb. When she was satisfied it would hold her weight, Josie jumped back down to earth and set out to find a goat.

Her choice of location and patience to sit in a tree above a rotting goat corpse was rewarded as the sun began to set. She heard the telltale patter of paws and a wolf appeared from the undergrowth, its shadow long and drawn out across the ground from the sunset behind. It probably looked majestic rising up against the orange glow. Josie didn't have time to contemplate those details though because as the wolf lowered its head to sniff at the goat's corpse she put a bullet through its skull, ejecting a clump of blood, brains, and fur onto the trunk of a nearby tree. The undergrowth rustled as the other members of the pack darted away, having been observing what happened to the one brave enough to step forward.

Without waiting for their return, Josie climbed down the branches and dropped onto the ground. Pulling a length of rope from her pocket she tied it around the wolves back legs pinning them together and then began dragging it away through the undergrowth. As she did so, she could see green eyes staring at her through the orange-tinted light of dusk, seeming to be full of fire. She merely smiled at them as she continued to drag their pack member away.

A couple of days later Josie was sitting on the trapping camp roof, lit cigarette between her lips and rifle resting between her legs. It was night and the gently smoldering embers of the fire pit occasionally spit out sparks. Four of the wolves hung strung from a log she had placed horizontally across the edge of the roof and into the Y-shaped crook of a nearby tree. Meanwhile, the other three wolves prowled the treeline at the edge of the camp below her. The light of the fire pit caught their eyes every so often, bathing them in an otherworldly glow of hellfire, demons summoned in the night. Josie exhaled a cloud of smoke as she watched them, and they watched her. Together they were the last outlaws of the island. The last four predators remained. The wolves had seen to the bear that had once lived there, and Josie was going to see to them.

It would be fine she figured. The island would see more wolves soon enough.

 Monday, December 13, 2021: Undisclosed Location, 9 AM 

Tracen Danya strode towards the desk that held the microphone that would soon beam his voice out to all those who had made it seven days on the island. He had his list and he had coffee, which steamed gently out the top of a mug that proclaimed "I hate Mondays," the words stamped onto the side. He gently pushed his head to the left and right until his spine produced a soft, satisfying pop. Tracen smiled gently, looked down at his notes, then pressed the button to start.

"Hello, class," he said smoothly. "It's Monday morning, but you don't have to worry about school or work anymore, so at least there's that, isn’t there? I'm certain you'd all like to get back to whatever it is you're doing, be it sleeping or slaughter, so Ill make this briefing brief."

"Starting off are a pair of kills that occurred when a group of your peers decided to get extra rowdy at our Hunting Lodge Bar. A little bar brawl ensued, resulting in Jack Anderson being shot by Donovan Lauer and then Donovan Lauer being shot by Crystal Henderson. You just can't take some people anywhere," he sighed through a sharp grin.

"Next it —"

Tracen stopped and squinted at the paper in front of him, reading it over a few times.

"It seems that Medea Parth was killed when Jezzie Stark hit her in the back, causing her to fall down a small slope… and then she then landed on a rock… resulting in Jezzie stabbing her in the throat."

His voice paused for a moment. The sounds of him speaking harshly to someone could be heard, but the contents were too muffled to be made out.

"Right. Anyway, it looks like we had another accident when Olive Mayo fell off the snowmobile she was driving and hit her head on a log. If anyone wishes to take revenge on that snowmobile, I'm sure it will be waiting.

"Moving right along, we had yet another messy fight. Daenerys Todd started an altercation with Betty Hartley and her two companions. Daenerys was shot by Chiara Masina, but unfortunately for Betty, her ally Derek Caldwell accidentally stabbed her with a sword in the confusion. I thought this would have been obvious, but my advice to all of you is not to point a sword at someone unless you want them dead.

"Now on to a dead pair of would-be lovers. Aion Rhodes was —"

There was another pause and this time quieter but still harsh indistinct speech.

"Okay, there was another accident where someone pushed someone and they fell down a slope and hit a rock. In this case Aion Rhodes was pushed by Daniel Ozanne, causing his death."

Tracen took a sip of his coffee and leaned in.

"I don't believe I've ever personally seen such a clumsy group of people. I suspect if you had made it to that ski trip, a quarter of your classmates would have still died," he sneered.

"Well," he continued, straightening up, "It seems that poor Amos Flanigan couldn't live without Aion. Luckily, a very good Samaritan wandered by to provide him enough rope to hang himself so he could join his beloved. How romantic.

"In other news, Andrew Lapson landed in some trouble and couldn't find his way out. Well, not alive, anyhow. He made use of a cyanide pill we generously provided.

"Billie Sommerfield wasn't able to defend against home intruder Salem Fox. It seems Mr. Fox is on a roll, even though Billie wasn't.

"Our last murder on the list comes full circle with another appearance and several new stab wounds from Jezzie Stark, this time killing Humphrey Hayward. And the day finished out with Betty Quinn dying by walking into a danger zone. We call that a Betty Boop."

Tracen yawned and scanned further down on the papers.

"On to more pleasant business. The entire Shoreline will become a danger zone, so take care to avoid it. That means both the Downed Plane and Rocky Beach are no-go zones. That is, unless you are the Fantastic Mr. Fox. Congratulations, Salem, on winning the best kill award. Please head down to the beach to get your prize of a chicken pot pie, snickerdoodle cookie, and cola.

"That's the end of today's update. If you can hear my voice, it means you've made it one week here, so congratulations. Check back for tomorrow's news!"